


A More Profound Bond

by glassclosetcastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cute, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Enochian, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, One Shot, Prayer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 19:00:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2358815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glassclosetcastiel/pseuds/glassclosetcastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean asks Castiel what it's like to be prayed to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A More Profound Bond

"What's it like to be prayed to?" Dean asks.

The question takes Castiel by surprise. Dean hardly ever asks questions about angel things. "How do you mean?" Castiel asks.

"Like," Dean gestures vaguely with his hand, trying to communicate his thoughts. "Do you just hear everyone praying? How do you know a prayer is meant for you?"

Castiel considers this. "I'm not sure how it works, exactly. I believe it has to do with the intent of the prayer." He has a hard time forming the explanation into words that Dean would understand. It was all much easier to explain in Enochian. "For example, if you were to say a general prayer, it would go out on angel radio, but no one angel would be able to hear it better than any other. However, if you were to begin a prayer with the intention that I should hear it, I would be the only one that could hear it."

Dean ponders this for a moment. "So you've just got voices in your head, all the time?" he asks the angel, who nods his assent. "But, how can you be here, having a conversation with me, while you've got millions of people talking in your head?"

 _Billions,_ Castiel wants to correct him, but doesn't. He shrugs- a gesture he learned from Dean- and tries to think of a way to describe it. "I suppose the best way I can explain it is that it's a bit like static on a car radio. If I so choose, I can tune in to any one voice or none at all. It's always in the background, but it isn't a distraction."

Dean nods. "So how many people pray to you, specifically?"

"Daily?" Castiel asks, and thinks about it. "It used to be more. These days, I receive a few thousand prayers a day."

Dean nearly spits out his beer. "Thousands?" He leans forward in his chair, mouth agape. "Cas. You've got thousands of people talking to you every day?"

Castiel nods again, not sure that he understands Dean's reaction. The man looks… hurt, somehow. "Yes. I'm very popular with the Kabbalists. What's the matter, Dean?" Castiel asks.

Dean leans back in his chair, looking off into the distance. "Nothing, man, that's just… wow." He pauses, lost in thought. Castiel waits for him to continue. After a moment, he sits forward again, looking at the angel. "I just kind of thought we were the only ones that you were talking to, I don't know." Dean drains his beer and looks back down at the magazine he had been flipping through before the conversation began.

Castiel takes a moment to try to wade through this murky pool of human emotions. "Dean," he begins, trying to get his friend's attention. "They only pray to me because they've read my name in their religious texts, and they think that I can help. They don't know me personally." He thinks he's hit on the issue when Dean looks up at him through his eyelashes, still seemingly upset. "They don't know me like you do," he amends.

"Yeah, but," Dean casts the magazine aside, leaning forward in his chair, "do you go help those people? Like how you help us?" 

Castiel decides that honesty is the best course to take in this line of questioning. "When I first came here, to Earth, it was a little overwhelming. I could feel the pain and suffering of billions of humans. I could hear thousands of mothers crying out for their dying children. I could hear fathers pleading for the safe return of their sons from battle. I helped as many as I could."

Dean looks uncomfortable. Castiel knows that it would be so much easier, as it would always be, to just read Dean's mind, but he can't invade his friend's privacy that way. He's never been able to bring himself to violate Dean's trust that way, even though it is maddening trying to read Dean on moody glares and body language alone.

He sighs. "I can't hear them like I can hear you, Dean," he confesses. This is something that he wasn't sure he should ever discuss with Dean, but the time seems right.

"What do you mean?" Dean asks.

Castiel moves to the chair opposite Dean at the table and sits. He searches his friend's tired face, trying to decide the best way to phrase this part. "There is a reason I always come when you call, Dean," he says, and Dean furrows his brow in confusion. "I can tune into the prayers of humans," Castiel goes on, using his hand to demonstrate as if he were tuning a radio dial. "When I hear a prayer that is intended for me, it's faint, like a whisper. I can tune it in and out, but it's still… distant, I suppose. But you, Dean," he pauses, looking intently into his friend's eyes, ''you I can hear clear as a bell. I could be on the other end of the galaxy and hear your voice as if you were right here." He gestures to the distance between them. A table width. Dean returns the searching look, and his face is hard to read again.

"Okay, so it's because you really know me? We've met, you know my voice really well? Is that it?"

Castiel looks at the table, again choosing his words. He knows how volatile his friend's emotions are. "It's not that simple. I know Sam's voice, but his prayers are like the others. Do you remember what I told him that day, when he became upset that I answered your prayer and not his?"

Dean squints in thought. "No, not really," he admits.

"I told him that it was because you and I have a more profound bond." 

A flicker of recollection crosses Dean's face. "Okay, so what does that mean, exactly?"

Castiel sighs again, reaching a decision. He reaches out, hesitantly, and rests two fingers on Dean's forehead. Dean starts to jerk away, but Castiel calms him. "It's alright, Dean," he says. "Let me show you."

And Castiel gives the knowledge to Dean. The knowledge that he has possessed since the fateful day in which he raised the man from hell. The reason that Castiel was chosen. The reason that Castiel has given up Heaven and Earth and everything he's ever known for one man. The knowledge of the truth of their bond. It is a blessing and a curse, and he gives it to Dean.

When Castiel has passed the knowledge along, Dean opens his eyes, and they are wet with tears. Castiel begins to pull his hand away, fearing what his friend must be feeling, but Dean stops him, taking his hand in his own. Dean opens the angel's palm and presses it to his cheek, closing his eyes. He sighs. "Thank you, Cas," Dean says. "I love you, too."

And Castiel smiles.


End file.
